Carly’s eyes snapped open as a crack louder than thunder echoed violently through her bedroom.  A burst of light shorter than a blink pealed from her dresser, and with a loud thump, there was silence in the darkness again.

                Cautiously, the eighteen-year-old daintily slid her feet toward the carpet, testing the fibers of it with her toes to ensure it was still safe to venture forward.  Then, draping her blanket around her pajama-clad shoulders, and tucking her dirty blonde locks underneath it, the girl padded her way forward in the dark.  She stopped with a heart-jolting stop when her toes bumped into something firm, with the warmth of human skin.

                Her hand darted for the small purple lamp on top of her dresser and she struggled for a few anxious moments to find it in the dark until her fingertips met the dangling switch, which she yanked almost hard enough to remove from the chain.

                Dim light filled the room, and Carly’s jaw could do nothing but drop, her cheeks drained of color as she stared at the thing on the floor she had bumped into.

                It was Jack.

                Or, at least, she thought it was Jack.  It looked exactly like him.  Every inch of him, in fact, and she would know; she had been accustomed to his every nook and cranny for almost four years.

                The only difference was that he stood at around six feet tall as he lay naked and weary-looking on her carpet with his eyes closed, his mind obviously still in a blissful slumber: his only respite from his normally rigorous daily activities in his younger sister’s hands and shoes.

                Too bewildered to fully accept what she was seeing, Carly prodded at Jack’s shoulder with her big toe.  She watched him nudge in his sleep, and nearly fell to the floor in shock at the confirmation of his existence.

                After all this time, it was over.

                Whatever oddity of science that had befallen her brother and become a blessing for her when she took permanent possession of him back then had finally come to an abrupt end.  He was normal-sized again.

                Carly’s heart immediately began racing such that she had to sit back on the end of her bed for support to avoid toppling over from wobbling knees, and she felt the nausea ballooning rapidly inside her stomach.  She let out a muted gasp, but managed to cup her hand around her mouth as she leaned forward, bracing herself for the oncoming dizziness, her vision swimming purely from adrenaline-spiked stress.

                How had this happened?

                What was going to happen now?

                Where could she go?

                Could she get away?

                Could she hide him?

                What could she do?

                Unable to hold back the influx of emotions and acid in her innards, Carly quickly grabbed a sunny yellow trash bin from the floor next to her desk and began heaving into it, her brow glistening with quite a sweat as her hollow wheezes turned into panicked vomiting.  She hadn’t eaten much the previous evening at dinner, making her intestinal evacuation all the more strained as she struggled for breath and a single shred of logical clarity.  Of course, neither was readily in reach.

                So much time had passed, with Jack being her dirty little secret she could play with to her heart’s content, the very idea of his discovery by anyone else had not existed in her mind since the day she had first found him wandering so helplessly around the kitchen.  Yet, it was a reality she’d have to contend with very soon.

                She wouldn’t be a victim of denial; she could already see the reality of the situation.  There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide and still manage to maintain a semblance of this life she loved so dearly.  She wouldn’t be able to keep Jack hidden any longer.  He would be taken away from her.  She would be left with nothing.

                And then people would find out.  Her Mom.  Her Dad.  Her cousins, her aunts and uncles and grandparents.  Her best friends.  Her enemies.  Her teachers.  Her coaches.  Every other person she knew and didn’t know with access to the internet or a TV.

                They would all know what she had done, and she knew right away that not a one of them could ever understand why, no matter how she tried to explain it, no matter how clear and just it all was in her head, they would side with Jack.  They would side with her toy brother, and they would listen to him tell every single wild thing she had ever put him through every hour of every day of every year he had spent in her presence.

                And they would burn her for it.

                Carly began to put down the disgusting trash can, positively weak with raw fear and sheer wonderment, when she felt another round coming, so she quickly brought it back to her lips just in time to let loose with a deep and painful hocking in her throat.

                She was totally unprepared.  There was no contingency plan, nor even one that could’ve existed if she’d managed to think it through for long enough.  No way out of it at all.  These thoughts had never crossed her mind, not for a second, because they hadn’t needed to.  After she’d found him, and made the decision to keep him, there was never a danger of anyone ever entering their little world.

                And why should they?  He belonged to her, not them.  No one else had the right to get anywhere near him or have anything to do with him.  He was her boy to caress, to abuse, to titillate.

                Hers.

                In tandem with the sickness at Jack’s growth, Carly instantly felt rage bubbling under her skin as well.  Finally so emptied of waste that all she was able to do was dry heave, she set the trash can back on the ground between her legs and set her hands on her knees, clenching them into white-hot fists to stop them from shaking too hard.

                What right did the universe have to make him like this again?  Jack’s shrinking to just under three inches had been the single most correct event of Carly’s life.  Every day, she’d trudged through her existence, accomplishing great things socially and athletically, but feeling so cold and distanced from it all that she could barely have been said to be existing at all before that fateful day.  Perhaps she thought she was back then, giggling with her friends at the mall or flirting with high school boys over the fence at the bus stop, but that was all meaningless now.  That was before she had discovered what it was like to be the queen that she rightfully was now.

                That was before she had discovered what it was like to own someone else’s existence.

                Every other person out there was lying to themselves, believing they counted as anything without experiencing even a fraction of the majesty Carly knew she had achieved at such a young age.  Simply, she had discovered her purpose: to be one for whom worship was the only acceptable interaction.

                And now that Jack had inexplicably regrown to his old size, it felt like the empire in her bedroom was tumbling down all around in a raucous silence, save for the gurgling of her wounded stomach.  The years she’d had, lording over her shrunken brother’s every movement, were not enough.

                She wanted more.

                She needed more.

                She deserved more.

                But with him back to normal size again, it would not be possible ever again.

                Now with the terror and anger came, also, sorrow.  Carly’s eyes welled with tears and she had to press her cold palms against her burning cheeks to try and calm herself as they began spilling down her face.  Her breath caught in her chest and she began sobbing meekly.

                Everything had been so right.  So perfect.  The world out there was so intent on controlling her: making her do homework, go to practice, attend boring parties, lie to people about whether they were actually friends.

                Jack was the one thing.  The one thing that was totally and completely hers.  A living, breathing thing that depended on her existence for absolutely everything.

                She decided when he ate.  When he slept.  When he went to the bathroom.  When he ejaculated.

                When he breathed.

                And it wasn’t just his actions, of course.  His tiny head, his tiny hands, his tiny legs, his tiny chest, and his tiny dick were all hers.  They were her little playground to give her fingers and toes and tongue delights she never thought she’d be able to experience with another person, let alone another existing thing in the world.

                And finally, his soul was hers too.  She knew it was, even if it wasn’t a thing she could grab onto and stuff into a pocket for safe keeping.  He had dedicated himself to her.  His every action, not only controlled by her, but specifically performed for her.

                He lived for her.

                And that was why she was able to get past the revolting boredom and grayness of that cloying outside world, to convince herself to climb out of bed in the morning, walk over to her dresser, open the drawer, and spend a few moments silently staring down at the squirming little life form just waiting there to be controlled in whatever way she chose.

                But it was all going away now.  All of it.

                Carly wiped a hand across her damp cheeks, but continued sniffling and leaking tears.  She still couldn’t fully process it all, but it briefly and casually crossed her mind that she might die for what she’d done.  Because of their false understanding of the world she inhabited with her brother, someone could decide to kill her.

                She didn’t care at this point.  Everything was gone that was worth having.

                If she couldn’t be a goddess, there was no point in being.  Humanity was too low to be worth it.  Her eyes had been opened too wide by her experiences in owning Jack to believe anything otherwise.

                As Carly continued crying and trying to smack the taste of the vomit off her lips, her hands still trembling with lingering fury at the world, there was a stirring on the carpet.

                Jack opened his eyes and rubbed them blearily, bringing himself back to consciousness.

                Not knowing what she was doing, Carly instantly composed herself and marched on steely autopilot back across her bedroom until she was standing above the reclining six-foot-tall frame of her twenty-one-year-old brother.

                She stared down at him unblinkingly, and once he’d adjusted to the light of the lamp their eyes locked.

                “Little bro,” Carly began neutrally.  There was a tremendous lump in her throat, and she couldn’t imagine what was going to come out of her mouth next due to the lightheadedness, but she parted her lips and the words just seemed to flow like sweet honey: “What are you doing out of your drawer?”

                At this, Jack’s being seemed to awaken, and terror flooded his expression, his eyes practically screaming, and his entire body surrendered to tremors.

                It was an intriguing sight for Carly.  She had, of course, seen this look on her brother’s face too many times to count, generally when her bare foot was hovering over top of him, fresh from her post-workout shoes, preparing to bury him alive under a mound of her swollen pink sole flesh.

                Yet, she had never seen the look this close before.  At his height of being just shy of a quarter of a foot tall, reading his face was guesswork at best, particularly when he was all the way down on the carpet at her toes where he belonged.

                Now, though, she could see it all.  And though she recognized the fear, she saw something else too, something she’d had to fight so hard to earn from him when she first made him her property: respect.

                A smile crossed Carly’s lips as she savored the look of reverent horror in Jack’s face.

                “I said…” Carly began again, lifting her foot off the carpet and gently pancaking her sole to the side of Jack’s face with a satisfying slap, forcing him to lean his head to the side.  “…what are you doing out of your drawer?”

                This was another novel sensation.  After so much time spent when her heel was plenty to conceal his entire body, the fact that her foot was about as long as his head again briefly threw her off, but she didn’t let it show.  His face was warm and anxious as ever, and it soothed the cool underside of Carly’s foot.

                “I don’t know,” Jack mumbled quietly, eyeing Carly’s foot as it bore down on his cheek harder and harder until it partially malformed the shape of his mouth just to the side of it.

                Carly didn’t dare try to grasp why Jack didn’t say anything about his renewed size.  He clearly acknowledged their size difference, with her foot only able to cover part of his face rather than his whole naked body under a few of her slender toes, and yet he said nothing.  Even if he’d noticed, did he even have the guts now to resist her?

                “I’m not sure I’m a big fan of that answer,” Carly said thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her lips.  She rippled her toes along Jack’s temple, reacquainting herself with the feeling she hadn’t experienced since their early conflicts when she was just fourteen, mere days before he took his rightful place in the universe.  “So maybe I’ll ask it again, and see if I get a better one.”

                Before speaking again, Carly shifted her foot slowly until it was positioned halfway above Jack’s mouth, the ball of her foot pressed against both of his nostrils with confident poise.

                “Carly, I’m sorry, I…” Jack muttered, though his words came out partially muffled with his sister’s foot caved against one of his cheeks so heavily, and his breathing already impaired.

                “Don’t talk yet.  Not until I ask the question,” Carly instructed.  “Now open your mouth.”

                His eyes agape with nervousness, Jack did as he was told, parting his lips as much as he could given the weight that was being applied to them.

                “Wider,” Carly simpered.

                The young man obliged, and with a little more muster managed to open his jaws as wide as they could go.

                “Good job, little bro,” she commented.  Toes wriggling with glee, she dipped her foot down into his open maw, managing to fit in a full three digits as well as part of a fourth.  She dug them as deep into her brother’s mouth as they would go, tapping at his palate and teeth.  “Don’t bite me.”

                There was only a murmured response that was instantly lost to the mass of womanly flesh currently filling the young man’s mouth.

                “Now,” Carly continued softly.  Her voice was on the verge of quavering, and she hadn’t felt this terrifying lack of utter confidence since she was fourteen years old, but she was wired now, and nothing could stop her from reclaiming what was hers.  Slowly, without removing her foot from the opening it occupied, she lowered herself down until she was seated comfortably on Jack’s stomach.  “I’ll ask again.  What were you doing out of the drawer?”

                There was another pause.  Carly’s brother choked lightly, his eyes welling with tears from the bitter taste of her flesh pervading his throat, but with some effort he got the words out: “I disobeyed.”

                “That’s right.  You did,” Carly agreed.  She wriggled her toes harder, trying to tickle the boy’s uvula.  When this failed, she satisfied herself by massaging the ball of her foot along his tongue.  “And what do I do with little bros who don’t obey me?”

                “Punish,” hacked the subdued six-foot-tall sibling.

                “Very good,” she answered.  She was beginning to see it already.  The change that was taking place.

                Or rather, the lack of one.

                The same fear in his eyes, the same trembling at her touch, the same single-minded existence.  It was all still there as though he was small enough to tuck beneath her warm toes for a basketball drill, in her fist for a game of beginner’s hide and seek, or under her tongue when a Jolly Rancher just wouldn’t hit the sweet spot.  He was taller and stronger than her now, physically, but he was still fully hers down to every last cell of his body and every last minute thought in his brain.

                She could see it all now, so clearly.  Every twitch of his body and every horrified intonation gave away his true ownership.  She knew it, but most importantly, he knew it.

                “So you know what to do,” Carly exhaled calmly at last, her heart pounding with joy.  “Start apologizing right now, or I’m gonna have to think up a new lesson for you.”

                The girl gasped elatedly as her prisoner began obediently sucking her toes without another moment’s pause.  She hadn’t been expecting this.  The sensation was far more potent and tactile on her skin, now that so much more bodily power was being dedicated to her wellbeing alone, and Carly couldn’t help but feel a twinge in her loins.

                Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

                Sure, this act couldn’t last forever now that he was big again.  Sure, they’d take him away and listen to what he told them.  Sure, they’d crucify her for what they were all too stupid and weak to understand correctly.

                None of those things mattered now.

                She had won.  She had beaten the world.  Nobody could ever take what was hers away, even if threw her in a hole and tossed the key away.

                No matter how far apart they were, no matter how much bigger than her he wrongfully managed to become, and no matter how often people tried to convince him it was over and he could be his own person again, it wouldn’t matter.

                She was and forever would be a queen of someone’s being.

                The girl closed her eyes and moaned pleasurably as her toy continued suckling the night sweat and toe jam from her squirming digits.

                Carly’s eyes snapped open again as she lay back in her bed, sunlight streaming in through the slats of the shades.  Blocking the glow with a hand, the girl ran her fingers through her tussled dark blonde locks and breathed a sigh of deep relief for something she couldn’t even remember from whatever wonderful nightmare-turned-fantasy she’d just had.

                Then it all came back in a flash.

                Holding back a scream, she bolted from her bed, breaths shallow, and yanked the drawer open with enough force that it almost came clean out of the dresser.

                The three-inch Jack was sent tumbling across a few rows of socks and slammed into the front of the wooden paneling.  Before he could even get his bearings, though, Carly’s thumb and index finger were pinching gently around his sides and she was lifting him out.  He soon found himself deposited into her cupped palm and raised up to eye level with her.

                There was a period of silence that went on for untold minutes.  All Carly could do was stare down at the little naked boy in her hand.  Her putty to mold however she saw fit, and once again free from the idiocy of the outside world.

                Her eyes once again welled with moisture, but this time for an entirely opposite reason.

                “What?” Jack peeped with terror, clearly more afraid of what his sister’s reaction might be to being upset that what it actually meant.

                “Don’t talk yet,” Carly whispered, ecstatic tears cascading down her cheeks while an unstoppably cheerful grin spread across her soft lips.  Delicately, she lowered herself down to the carpet, arching her wrinkled sole to get it some air, before cupping her tiny brother against the silky skin.  “Now open your mouth.”